The destruction of the Hall of the Undying by fire, as expected, caused a tremendous uproar in Qarth.
Although Daenerys had managed to temporarily smooth things over with an irrefutable lie, unfavorable rumors about her and her dragons quickly spread through the city.
"I may not like warlocks, but that was a sacred temple that stood for a thousand years. If your dragon can burn it down today, it might burn the Hall of Dust tomorrow, and who knows, maybe the Great Temple of a Thousand Pillars the day after? Dragons are too dangerous, too uncontrollable. They should be killed while they're still young." Some with ulterior motives spread such talk.
"But I heard the Undying burned their own dilapidated building. I think the Mother of Dragons is right. Developing the land into streets and collecting rent would be better than letting it sit empty. Perhaps the Undying finally saw reason?" others countered.
"Whether it was burned by dragons or by the Undying's magic, it's a danger to us all. At the very least, the dragons should be driven out of Qarth."
The next afternoon, Zaro, his face etched with worry, informed Daenerys that Pyat Pree was rallying the warlocks to move against her.
Daenerys immediately replied, "I will leave Qarth the morning after tomorrow."
Zaro lowered his head, forcibly taking her small hand and kissing her fingers. With deep emotion, he said, "You must leave, immediately. The sooner the better."
"But my Queen, you will not be alone."
"You saw darkness in the Hall of Dust, but my dreams are filled with light. I dream of a cruise ship sailing slowly on the warm, tranquil Jade Sea, carried by a gentle breeze."
"You lie happily on a soft couch, basking in the sun, sipping delicious coconut juice, and smiling as you watch our child play with the seagulls on the deck."
*Ugh, you shameless bastard, what a self-indulgent fantasy.*
"Alas, we must part like 'birds flying in opposite directions.' You will sail east to the Jade Sea, while I will ride my camel west. We may never see each other again!" Daenerys teased, subtly wiping the back of her hand on the blanket behind her back as she spoke.
"Come with me to the Jade Sea, give me a son, and make my beautiful dream come true, my sweet star of paradise!"
The merchant, whose face was as round and soft as a steamed bun, spoke with the tone of a lovesick poet, spouting lines fit for a romantic drama's young heartthrob.
This was more disgusting than spit.
Spit could be wiped away quietly, but these words, once heard, could not be erased. They wouldn't just linger; they might become a permanent memory. A nightmare.
"I'm sorry, Zaro," Daenerys said sadly, "you're a good man, but my destination lies to the west."
This time, Zaro's face darkened immediately upon receiving the "good man" card.
He said in a low, stern voice, "Then leave. Go now."
Daenerys froze for a moment, then reacted to his sudden change in attitude. "I'm already packing. I'll be leaving the day after tomorrow."
"You're fickle and have played with my feelings," the merchant said coldly, his eyes fixed on Daenerys. "Return my things."
*Play with your feelings?* Daenerys thought. *I never even kept you as a backup! I rejected you outright every single time!*
Unwilling to show her anger, she forced down her rage and said in a muffled voice, "What things? I haven't taken any of your belongings."
*Just don't you dare say your precious heart is here with me,* she vowed inwardly. *If you do, I'll kick you twice before I even get disgusted.*
Fortunately, the merchant was even more ruthless and shameless than she'd anticipated.
"The Magic Purple Crystal I gave you, the ox cart, one thousand jade toy soldiers, the Yidi Silk..."
Zaro listed items for three full minutes, itemizing things Daenerys herself had forgotten, yet he remembered them all clearly.
Her mouth hung open in a daze for a long time before she finally realized: *I've run into the ultimate scumbag.*
Even couples breaking up and dividing their assets wouldn't be so ruthless.
They weren't even a couple, yet he'd immediately turned hostile and demanded back the gift he'd given her upon discovering she was no longer useful?!
You should be called "Xaro" instead of "Xaro"!
Xaro belongs in modern society, where there are plenty of "side chick" loving, backstabbing women. The two of them would definitely spark some "happy" fireworks together.
Besides, even the most skilled backstabbing woman couldn't match his level. Once all the backstabbing women are defeated, the remaining men will finally be happy!
"Everything else is fine, but the Yidi Silk has already been made into clothes. How can you—?" Daenerys struggled.
"Don't you have money? Pay in Radiant Coins," Xaro said coldly. "Starting tonight, you'll be responsible for your own barbarian food. You only have two days left in the house."
*Good, he didn't ask for the cost of the past ten days of food and lodging.*
In the afternoon, Jorah took the Centaurs to the market to buy supplies. With some free time, Daenerys placed a recliner in the fountain beneath the courtyard's ginkgo tree. She lay back comfortably, munching on crisp, sweet persimmons while enjoying the gentle "massage" of the "kissing fish" tickling her calves and toes.
"Ah, these days of indulgence are numbered. What will come next..."
As these thoughts drifted through her mind, the clatter of armor drew near.
It was Jorah Mormont.
To prevent any accidents during their imminent departure, he had donned his iron armor once more.
"Your Highness, Illyrio has sent someone to escort you."
His face was grave, his brow furrowed. This unexpected guest brought him more concern than joy.
"Illyrio? Pentos is across the entire continent from Qarth. How could he possibly know I'm here?" Daenerys asked in surprise.
"I don't know. They're waiting at the mansion's gates. You can ask him yourself." Jorah shook his head.
Instead of immediately admitting the guest, Daenerys focused on the knight's mood. "You don't seem to welcome them?"
"They specifically asked for the Dragon. If even Illyrio of Pentos knows you have a dragon..." He hesitated, then added with concern, "The Narrow Sea separates Pentos from King's Landing, and it's only about 500 kilometers wide. If Pentos can reach Qarth, so can assassins from King's Landing."
"That makes sense," Daenerys nodded, though her expression wasn't as somber as Jorah had expected.
She spoke slowly, "Our original plan was to travel overland to Astapor, purchase a contingent of Unsullied, and then head north. When everyone assumes we'll turn back at Slaver's Bay and continue west, we'll do the opposite—retreat east along the old trade routes."
"In a siege, a thousand Unsullied can hold off ten thousand soldiers. The environment around White Cloud City simply couldn't support such a large army anyway.
With only our own people in White Cloud City, if we seal the gates, not even a hundred Faceless Men could harm me—they wouldn't be able to get in at all."
At this moment, Daenerys hadn't directly witnessed the plight of the slaves. She had no intention of taking the risk of creating a major incident, nor did she consider using deceitful means like the original Daenerys Targaryen to slaughter the Apostata slave owners.
Attacking the Slaver's Bay city-states and killing the masters would be acceptable, but using deception was out of the question. No matter how noble the purpose, doing so would forever tarnish the name of Daenerys Targaryen in this world!
That bastard Xaro, so desperate for a dragon, never once considered breaking his word and forcing himself on Daenerys.
Despite being gay, he forced himself to fawn over her. Just imagine a straight, tough guy having to grovel and woo another man. Who could stand that?
The Qarthian royal family was similar. They only demanded gold and silver according to tradition, but they didn't send their camel knights to slaughter Daenerys's group and seize the dragon.
The Qarthian royals are so greedy for wealth. Surely three young dragons are worth more than a few thousand Radiant Coins?
Clearly not.
The grand maester Pyat Pree hated Daenerys with a passion and desperately wanted a dragon, but even his schemes remained within the bounds of the rules.
When Pyat Pree, Xaro, and Quaithe invited Daenerys, they automatically established a universally recognized relationship of trust. In Westerosi terms, they formed a guest-host bond, mutually enjoying the rights of guests.
Even those men could uphold their word. Was Daenerys truly inferior to them?
Therefore, Daenerys's plan was very conservative. She focused solely on stalling for time until the three dragons grew up.
Jorah Mormont was certainly not her most trusted confidant—he was far less loyal than the Bloodsworn—but he was undoubtedly her most brilliant strategist.
Daenerys outlined her plan to him, leaving the details entirely to him. He possessed far more experience in warfare and strategy than she did.
*Ah, it's rather pathetic, when you think about it.*
*Jorah Mormont was, at best, a Zhang Fei, yet she ended up using him like a Zhuge Liang.*
"Your Highness, Illyrio has sent three massive ocean-going vessels," Jorah's voice drifted to her ears.
"He's certainly done his homework on our situation," Daenerys said with a hint of sarcasm. "Enough to completely fill my little *kLS*."
Jorah replied with a wry tone, "More than just your *kLS*. He's a merchant, and merchants never do losing business. The three ships will arrive laden with goods from the Western Continent and depart with enough cargo to cover their costs."
Now Daenerys heard the hidden meaning in his words. "So?"
"In theory, you'll become the temporary owner of those three ships," Jorah said, his eyes gleaming with calculation. "We'll still head to Apostata by sea, purchase around 3,000 Unsullied, and then no one will be able to harm you easily."
Daenerys held the persimmon in her hand for a long time without taking a bite. The part she had bitten into slowly turned brown in the air. She tossed it far off to the base of the wall and murmured, "Let's decide after meeting the person in charge."
Instead of returning to the stiflingly hot main hall, she had Doria place two lounge chairs in the fountain pool and stock it with wine and fruits.
When the two guests followed Ago into the courtyard, they saw the girl with her hair tied back, wearing a brightly painted vest over her upper body and loose silk shorts (similar to beach shorts) on her lower half. Her bare, pale feet stood by the water as she smiled and beckoned them over.
The heat in the air seemed to dissipate by half in her presence.
The leader was a burly, overweight man, nearly two meters tall with dark brown skin.
Sweat made his bald head gleam with an oily sheen. He wore only a tight, studded leather vest, and his sweat-dampened yellow trousers bore noticeable stains. A long, curved Arrakian scimitar was tucked into his waistband.
Though overweight, he wasn't flabby. His arms were as thick as oak trunks, and his protruding belly felt solid and substantial.
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